


Currahee

by The_Readers_Muse



Series: Thunderbolt [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Blood and Injury, Caretaking, Drama, Drugs, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Missing Scene, Multi, Romance, part of an existing series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26913241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: "Agent Timson? Can I have a moment?"
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, OC/OC
Series: Thunderbolt [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814881
Kudos: 44





	Currahee

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Criminal Minds" or any of the show's characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: Part two of the "Thunderbolt" series. This fits into the last chapter of "Coup de Foudre" following what Reid was up to while Hotch was unconscious in the private hospital. - This will not make sense unless you have read "Coup de Foudre."
> 
> Warnings: alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alpha/omega, canon typical violence, blood and injury, drugs, drama, romance, angst, friends to lovers, care-taking, missing scene fic, part of a existing series.

It wasn't until Hotch's vitals steadied that he finally unlocked his knees and wobbled to the small bathroom in the hospital suite. His phone vibrated - ignored - in his pocket as he splashed water on his face. Skin feeling oily and dull as he ducked his head under the spray. Wetting the ends of his hair until the cold forced him back.

His phone stopped ringing, then started up again.

He didn't need to look to know who it was.

The team hadn't been allowed in the facility.

As far as he could tell, it was an unofficial medical center. Off the books. Garcia had been trying to pull up more information, but something in him had eased when he caught sight of Agent Timson following another stretcher down the hallway when they'd arrived. Able to recognize the distressed Omega's scent as Agent Butcharn's unique char wafted behind them. Muted by sedation and shock, but unmistakably Alpha.

The CIA had kept their word.

Wherever they were, it was safe.

He looked down at his hands as they shook around a wad of brown paper towel. He hadn't thought to ask about them in the intervening hours. Too caught on the phantom weight of Hotch slumping unconscious into the curl of his shoulder. Every inch screaming betrayal as hot tears threatened to fall whenever he looked at him.

Logically, he knew it had been the right call. Hotch had been a danger to himself and everyone around him. An Alpha in rut, according to the histories, was a fearsome thing to behold, even in the best of circumstances. And these- _this_ didn't apply. Not even close.

He'd done the right thing.

But it didn't feel like it.

He hadn't been able to get it out of his mind. How Hotch had just crumpled in on himself. The muscles in his neck straining. Fists clenched so hard there'd been blood when they laid him out on the floor. The CIA had been quick to try and take control, but Rossi already had the Director on the phone and after some tense back and forth they backed down. Both agencies deciding to break the mold and work together as the steady, violent beat of an approaching helicopter echoed through the warehouse.

After that, everything happened fast.

He wasn't sure why - perhaps they already knew, or maybe it was the expression on his face - but he was allowed to accompany his Alpha in the medic-vac and then here. Openly acknowledged as Hotch's mate when the doctors, in full haz-mat gear, met them on the roof. Getting the changing social landscape in snatches as half-caught conversations and news reports filtered through the sterile air. Genesis was now out in the open. The bombing of the CIA headquarters had killed dozens, revealing the "Alpha Revitalization Project" to a mainstream audience.

So far, Hotch and Agent Butcharn were the only known Alphas. Those who had been exposed in the bombing had either died or were in critical condition. They weren't expected to make it, but the fact that they were still alive was proof that Alina Lincoln had been telling the truth. This formula was different, more targeted. Garcia had already emailed him the chemical makeup of the last bomb, confirming it. It wasn't perfect, but it was clearly being adapted to focus solely on those with dormant Alpha genes. It was only a matter of time before Genesis would only affect its target population. Forcibly bringing Alphas back from extinction.

He wanted to say he was too exhausted to have an opinion on that eventuality.

But that was a lie.

He didn't want to think about it because he knew what his answer would be.

It wasn't right to change people against their will.

It wasn't.

But-

He shook his head, combing back his curls as cold water trickled past his collar. Welcoming the distraction when his cell started vibrating again. He tugged it out, fingers tingling with the echoing buzz.

The first was a text from Morgan-

_"Just heard from the director that Hotch is stable. You doing alright, pretty boy? Need anything?"_

His fingers felt stiff and uncoordinated as he typed a response. Slipping the phone back into his pocket as he opened the bathroom door. He inhaled automatically, the tension on his chest easing as Hotch's scent competed with the gentle chemicals the hospital used. Recognizing at least four Omega-friendly cleaning products as he did. Making him wonder exactly how long they'd been preparing this place.

He put it aside almost immediately, however.

It wasn't a rabbit hole he wanted to go down right now.

He had more important things to worry about.

The walls seemed to hum with nervous energy as he leaned against the door, watching his Alpha breathe.

 _His Alpha.  
_  
He shivered.

It was still a novelty. He figured it would be for a while. It hadn't been a surprise when Hotch had presented. Not really. Aaron was one of the most dominant people he knew. He couldn't count the times over the years where he had to stop himself from scenting him. Swearing each time he could almost find something there. Something Alpha. But he hadn't. Not until Hindes. Not until everything changed.

Hotch was his.

Maybe Hotch had always been his.

He ducked his head into his chin, lips brushing his collar in a self-soothing burr.

The fingers on Hotch's dominant hand twitched. Palm splayed out across the sheets. Widening. in his chest tugged tight at the display. Smiling shallowly as the Omega in him demanded he answer.

There was nothing he wanted more than to curl up beside him.

But he needed to do something first.

* * *

"Agent Timson? Can I have a moment?"

His knock was light in the empty hallway. Aware of the security cameras and curious medical staff. Nose twitching at the strong bouquet of an Alpha and Omega pair. He'd never smelled anything like it. Their scent was almost indistinguishable from one another. Complimentary and cusping. Making him wonder if he and Hotch smelled the same.

There hadn't been a mated pair in centuries. It made sense there would be a steep learning curve. There were social protocols none of them would know how to follow. Things that would seem obvious to them, but not to a Beta or even an Omega on suppressants. Alina Lincoln certainly hadn't smelled his claim when Hotch had interrogated her. But then, maybe an unhinged Omega wasn't the best example. Instinct could only get you so far.

He considered it as he waited.

_Hindes._

_Alina._

They were poster children for every Omega who'd been pushed to the edge.

Both willing to kill if it meant bringing the Alphas back.

But not Timson.

If anything, the Omega had been downright hostile when the CIA had tried to whisk Hotch away after his reaction in the interrogation room. After that, he'd hardly reacted to the Alpha's presence. Not once trying to curry favor or gain Hotch's attention. Making him wonder if it had been disinterest, his unconscious acknowledgement of another Omega's claim, or if his attention had been focused elsewhere. On a dormant Alpha of his own.

He forced an awkward smile when the Omega cracked the door open. Shoulders tense until he caught sight of him. Body language stressed and on edge, but relieved to see him.

"Doctor Reed," Agent Timson greeted, ducking a nod. Looking remarkably young under a layer of grit and blood. Like he hadn't left his Alpha's side, not even once. "She isn't- she isn't awake yet, I-"

It was frightening how much he related.

"Neither is Agent Hotchner," he broke in, keeping his hands in his pockets. Changing tactics as the man swayed against the frame, exhausted. "I figured you might need a breather. I can't stay long, but I can watch her while you get cleaned up."

Timson opened his mouth to argue, but he beat him to it. A Beta nurse had pulled the same line on him a couple hours into their stay. Taking his place by Hotch's bedside while he got cleaned up in the small in-suite bathroom. Never more grateful for his go-bag as he pulled on the spare set of clothes - finally able to smell something that wasn't blood and cinder-smoke.

"You don't want to worry her when she wakes up. She needs rest, but that won't happen if she thinks you're hurt. She can't. This is going to hit her at once. The least you can do is give her one less thing to worry about," he coached, softening his tone to something like camaraderie as he allowed himself to be vulnerable. "Hotch- he almost lost it when he thought I was in danger. That's why we're here."

That and the small matter of Hotch having been in rut at the time.

Naturally, he kept that part to himself.

Timson's chin wobbled, jaw clenching before he finally nodded. Opening the door wide enough for him to slip through, but not wide enough for the orderly at the other end of the hall to see inside. Instincts demanding he protect his unconscious Alpha, just like a pack would in ancient times.

His nose twitched as the door closed behind him. Immediately struck by how different the scent was from Hotch's richer tones. Agent Butcharn smelled like Los Angeles on fire - strong, acrid and smoky-spurred. Complimentary only to Timson's aromatic, pine forest scent. She smelled like an Alpha, but the difference was distinct enough to catch in his throat like a cough.

And for some reason, he felt relieved.

He took the Omega's seat at her bedside as Agent Timson gathered up a pile of clothes and toiletries. Disappearing into the bathroom with a last, lingering look he returned with an assuring nod.

He was being trusted.

Omega to Omega.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, saying nothing.

Agent Butcharn was pale, but her pulse and breathing were reassuringly steady. Under the cuts, bruises and tubes, she looked...different. Softer. First impressions hadn't been favorable during their tense meeting at the CIA. Getting the impression, as he often did when the CIA was involved, that there was more under the surface when he noticed her watching Hotch from across the room. At the time, he'd been concerned the CIA had a reason for trying to get Hotch alone. But now, he wondered if their animosity had been encouraged by something else.

Had the Alpha in her recognized Hotch somehow?

Or had it been about something else?

He remembered the look on her face when Timson had tipped her hand.

There had been irritation there, but-

_Ah._

She'd stepped in front of Timson the same moment everyone's attention rounded on him. She'd been protecting him, even then. She probably hadn't even known why.

The sounds from the bathroom were muffled, but hurried. As if Timson didn't want to be separated from his Alpha any longer than he had to be. He tapped his lip, hiding a small smile. Aware that for them, this was all new. He and Hotch had experienced a week together. They'd been able to get used to it gradually. Butcharn and Timson hadn't been so lucky.

He got up quickly when Timson exited the bathroom in a wave of soap and muted cologne. Saying nothing when he swayed slightly, gravity disagreeing with tired muscles. Ceding the chair and moving to the one across from him as Timson moved his chair even closer to her bed. It was a very innocent thing when Timson reached for her, fingers gently curling. Only to stop when his eyes flicked over to him. Embarrassed. Drained. Guilty. Wanting. Not used to that unspoken permission all Alpha and Omega mates share.

It was stunning how much he related.

Knowing and _knowing_ were two very different things.

And Timson and Butcharn were at the very beginning of it.

He broke the silence first.

"I wanted to check in, see how you're handling this," he opened, fingers tugging on the cuffs of his sweater. Calmed when Hotch's scent remained thick on the fabric.

Timson opened his mouth, shook his head, then closed it again. Making a soft sound that seemed universal to the moment before running his hand down his face. Tugging his lips into a temporary pout before he met his gaze.

"I don't want to leave her."

It wasn't what he asked, but at the same time, it also explained everything.

"How long have you known?" he asked instead. Curious.

Timson exhaled, then huffed a laugh like whip-lash. Quieting for a long moment when Agent Butcharn's heart monitor sped up - maybe responding to the sound of his voice - before settling again.

"I want to say I didn't, but-"

Timson didn't finish the thought. He didn't have to.

"She drives me crazy half the time. I could never figure her out. We didn't got along, or at least I didn't think we did. I always ended up on her team. I dreaded it...honestly. It felt like I was always on the defensive when she was around. She made me nervous and I guess I let it get to me. It felt like she was looking for a reason to take me down a peg. …I thought she hated me."

He watched as Timson finally braved the intervening space and gently laced their fingers together. Alpha and Omega. Neither of them said anything when Butcharn's grip tightened around his as she slept. Keeping him close.

His throat felt thick, but with good feelings for a change. Not horror, grief or fear. It was a nice change. Basking in the second-hand thrill of it as the other Omega smiled with his eyes. Feeling the same sense of well-being. In fact, he didn't realize how much time had passed until his phone buzzed. Reminding him that Hotch was waiting in the other wing.

He stood up, making Timson start – blinking slowly up at him like he might have been half-asleep. Lulled into that comfortable headspace he'd experienced in Hotch's presence more than once since this had started.

"You know, I wasn't sure why but he bothered me…your Agent Hotchner," Timson murmured, halting and slow before finding his focus in the details. "There was something about him that drew me in, but put on me edge too. Like I could almost see it, you know? The Alpha in him? And, _oh_ _hell_ \- she- _Sarah_ \- that was probably why she lit a strip into me afterwards. I was looking at the tapes after your team left. Trying to make sense of it, I guess. I had the screen frozen on him when she came in and she nearly took the paint off the walls. I guess we have a lot to talk about when she wakes up."

He spared the man a small, commiserating smile as he gentled the door open, ducking his head in goodbye. Heart and mind already a few floors up and to the left, where his Alpha was sleeping.

"I know the feeling."

He had a feeling it wouldn't be long before they weren't the only ones.

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- Currahee, a corruption of gurahiyi, a Cherokee word possibly meaning "stand alone" or "stand alone together." For the purposes of this fic the meaning I am using is: "Stand Alone Together."


End file.
